Chapter Eight For an instant in the silence that followed, shocked into immobility, Melusine stared in horror at the body lying there so still. I often think of those delightful evenings in Paris. She patted John's head with her palm, its surface appealingly fuzzy. “Ye Gods!” she said at last. Wood was an old friend of mine—and I recollect seeing Jack when he was bound 'prentice to him. “You are my friend,” she said, “if any one is. I spent this afternoon in detention.
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